Monday, January 7, 2008

Excuse me while I wipe the sleep from my eyes

Oy vey. Oy vey Oy vey Oy vey.

The kids are fighting bedtime at the House of York, and we're not taking it lying down. Literally.

For, oh, the 5th night in a row now, we've all been up in the middle of the night, yelling, screaming and crying and not sleeping at all.

It all started when we began letting Jax sleep in his room with the door open. Going to bed is not the issue (most of the time), staying in bed is.

Night after night I wake up with Ryan nuzzled up next to me, Jaxson curled around my head, and Shawn sprawled out on the rest of the bed. A happy Mommy this does not make.

Most of the time I have no idea when the kids actually enter the bed, my body clearly trying to get as much sound sleep as possible when possible, but gradually I will waken, whether due to the 32 pound butterball covering my airways, or the elbow of his sister wedging between my ribs.

I never really minded when it was just Ryan, but now that it's both of them, it's becoming annoying -- especially when you consider there's an entire spanse of free bed space on Shawn's side that neither of them will cross.

So we've been relegating them back to their beds this week, no easy feat, I'll have you know. Mostly because I can't spend one more night crawling into Jax's empty bed, which unexplicably constantly smells like syrup or urine, sometimes both, regardless of how many times a week i change the sheets.

First they refuse, arguing, stomping, whining, almost getting me to give in, until Daddy starts to get up, then they go flying in tears to their rooms where they scream and yell until they eventually pass out from exhaustion.

So wracked with guilt am I that by the time they end their fight, I find myself lying wide awake next to a snoring Shawn, who though in the process of being confirmed into the Catholic church, has not yet been inducted to the Guilt Guild, a rite of passage I can only assume takes place after his first confession.

The best part about these midnight melees is that they effect the kid's waking hour not at all. 6am hits and there they are, pulling the sheets off of Mommy, demanding I get up and fix breakfast, or in Jax's case, "Cheetos! Cheetos!".

It is with a hardened heart that I regard my friends who have to wake up their kids in the morning. I'm not proud of this fact, but it's hard to pray for patience and an open heart when you fall asleep before you even get a chance to cross yourself.

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